Sad

***Whine Alert***

You may want to stop here! :P

My husband did not call last night. He is 4 hours away in Louisiana, working an outage for another plant. He is supposed to be gone for a month or more. I know that he probably got too tied up at work to be able to get away to call. I feel like a teenager waiting for a call from a boy. I am sure he will call tonight and all will be fine.

My art teacher just called and canceled my lesson. We have not been able to get together in almost a month. I am learning a lot on my own, but I miss her. Like many painters, I need that second set of eyes to help me figure out what needs tweaking to make a painting the best it can be.

All my friends are crazy busy right now. And a problem with having friends close to my own age is that those who have not had hysterectomies are going through menopause all at once. Between the busyness and the hormones, I am giving everyone a wide berth. It gets lonely. But I know, this too will pass.

So, I think I am going to sign off, have a good cry, and move on.

Art Show

Last night I attended my first art show where I actually had my own art hanging. I was floored when I walked in, and an old friend greeted me with the news that one of my paintings (this one!) had sold to one of the patrons of the association. It was the most expensive one and although, after getting it framed and after the art association gets a cut, I won't "make" much, it is still a thrill. At least I have some cash to continue pursuing my new hobby.

It turns out that my friend's mother is the lady who called me to ask me to make food for the reception. We talked for a while at that time and she is sympathetic to the handicapped access situation. She has e-mailed other members and plans are being made to do what needs to be done to remedy this situation. I feel like I have an ally now in my quest to get this building more disability friendly. Not just for myself, but for others as well.

I did not win any prizes, but I did not expect to. Most of those go to the professional, established artists. I have to admit that some of the things that won awards are totally over my head as far as appreciation goes. I guess I am not "artsy" enough.

Some things are better off not being understood.

;)

Art Association

Today, I took my artwork for the upcoming show to the Firehouse Gallery. This is an older building and not disability friendly at all. There is also very little parking, and most of what is available is not level.

I parked on a slope and wrestled my walker out of the van. Then, I put my pictures on my walker and slowly began to make my way to the building. A lady who was about to get in her car offered to help, but I waved her on, thinking that I could get help from someone still inside.

Boy was I wrong! I got to the entrance to the building and tried to get someone to help me lift one side of my walker over the three inch stoop area. I was ignored for about 5 minutes, and then a lady taking submissions told me she would get to me later.

I waited until my legs were giving out, and went around to try to pull my walker over the stoop myself so I could get in and sit down while I waited. The submission lady finally came over and helped when she saw I was struggling. She was obviously not pleased that I took her away from her task.

I finally got my submissions entered, but the whole thing just left a bad taste in my mouth. At the opening meeting, only one person in the entire gathering offered assistance of any kind. These folks just do not seem very "disability friendly."

Don't get me wrong. I don't expect people to fall over backwards accommodating me. But a little help and/or understanding would be appreciated. Is that too much to ask?

It looks like it.

15

Sam turned 15 today. It just does not seem possible. What happened to the adorable tot who would toddle up to the fence and call for Bill? Now she is an aunt to a three year old herself.

I have such a "wish list" for young Samantha. I want her to see herself as the smart young lady she is. I want her to be happy. I want her to be with people who lift her up instead of dragging her down. I want her to avoid the pitfalls of alcohol and drugs. I want her to find her passion.

But, alas, MY wish list is not HER wish list. I just want the very best for her and I pray that, someday, she will want the best for herself.

Happy Birthday, Sam.

Weight Loss Challenge

Tomorrow I am going to bite the bullet and join a citywide weight loss challenge.

It is not going to be easy. Losing weight under even the best of circumstances never is. Put allergies to shellfish, ocean fish, oats, barley, legumes, cruciferous vegetables, apples, pears, bananas, grapes, strawberries, melons, and anything in the squash/gourd family and that makes it considerably harder.

In addition, I have to severely limit dairy due to sensitivities. I am not able to eat the "diet" dinners, shakes, bars, or other snacks without pretty unpleasant results. I have to also limit tomato, citrus, and peppers due to reflux.

Now, add in a daily dose of steroids. Oh, and the inability to exercise due to Myasthenia Gravis. Actually 5 of the 12 meds I take daily list weight gain as a side effect.

But, I don't want to be one of those bed bound people on TLC or Discovery Health, so I am going to have to find a way.

And I will.

50

Today is my 50th birthday. I can remember a time when 50 was ancient! Now, it is quite young!

I don't mind being 50. I am happier and more confident than I have been at any other time of my life. I would not be 20, 30, or even 40 again for any amount of money.

I had a lovely day. Birthdays remind me that I am blessed to have so many people who care about me.

And, for that, I am thankful.

The Panty Tree

Yesterday, the precious gentleman (who was my very first pastor as a child) went to Heaven to be with his God and his beloved wife Earline.

Brother Daniels was still preaching at tiny Yokena Presbyterian Church until two weeks ago. His sermons were just as relevant and current as those he preached when I was a small child.

The title of this post comes from an incident that happened at the preacher's house when I was about 5. There was a rope swing hanging from a low branch in this wonderful tree in his yard. It was one of those made from a board with a rope knotted through a hole drilled in the middle. I used to spend hours on that swing.

Well one day, I was turning around and around on that swing. I stopped, but when I went to get off the swing, I could not move. I had twisted and turned my "Her Majesty" ruffled panties around that rope until I was stuck tight. Miss Earline had to come out with scissors and cut me out of that swing. My fancy panties were ruined.

Brother Daniel's funeral will be Friday morning. It is now 45 years later, but I can rest assured that one of his children is going to mention the "panty story."

I guess some things are never meant to be lived down.

And sometimes, that is OK.